


Roll With It

by katy15307



Series: (What's the Story) Morning Glory? 1995 [2]
Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: Arrested, Police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katy15307/pseuds/katy15307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running from the law doesn't turn out to be so fun for Liam but still it's a decent night out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roll With It

Running, we were fucking running for our lives! If not our lives, our freedom and fucking hell my heart was pumping. The fucking rush of adrenaline. The rush of air hitting my face, forcing my hair and my parka to go all over. This was living and I loved it.  
I glanced over my shoulder.  
“Faster! Fucking leg it, come on!” I shouted.  
I didn’t even know if I was talking to my brother or forcing myself to go on.  
They, the pigs were right behind us. Catching up. It wasn’t fair, they were trained for this, we weren’t. I wasn’t getting arrested, not today, no fucking way!  
Somehow the short arse was outrunning me. He had the gear, he had more to lose if they caught him. My whole body, my legs, my arms, my fucking heart wanted to give in, collapse but my mind told them to fuck off and keep going.  
“No shit, little bruv.” Noel answered. “Get a move on.”  
“I AM!”  
Desperation was getting to us. We were alcohol drinking, drug taking, chain smoking idiots, NOT runners.  
We kept running. We were never getting away. Didn’t even know where to go, this wasn’t home territory. They were so fucking close to catching us. We’d have give to give up before they did and they fucking knew it.  
I tripped, hit the concrete fucking hard. “SHIT!”  
Noel never looked back. He just fucked off, fast and left me, darting down an alley that they’d never follow him down. Selfish little tosser.  
“Right… I’m arresting you… on suspicion…” The officer got to me and grabbed my wrists.  
He concentrated on getting the cuffs around my wrists in front of me and pulled me to my feet.  
“I’m arresting you on suspicion of criminal damage and drug possession.” he said once I was up and he could speak a full sentence without panting.  
I just nodded. I was too fucking out of breath to speak. My heart was gonna explode.  
The other officer spoke my rights. “You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”  
I chose silence, mainly because I wanted to lay down and let my heart settle to a normal beat, so bad. Anyone’d think there was a rave going off in my chest.  
They asked if I had any weapons, sharp objects, anything I shouldn’t have. I shook my head and the one that read my rights searched me while the one who arrested me held my arm and said something over his radio, police jargon, that alphabet they’ve got and stuff.  
Nothing, I had nothing on me.  
I’m young and I’m free and I’m not stupid enough to have shit in my pockets, especially when I’m running from the law.  
Their back up jam sandwich pulled up. The arresting officer got in the passenger seat, I was forced into the back seat and taken away.  
…  
“What’s your name?” The reception officer asked boredly.  
“Liam Gallagher.”  
“Your real name.”  
My name was a pretty damn famous name now, she probably didn’t believe I was me. In fact I could see it in her eyes, she was way too used to false names, it had to be bullshit.  
“Liam. Gallagher.”  
I wasn’t going to give them my full name or my address or anything I could get away with not telling them.  
“You do realise it’s illegal to lie on the form.” she pointed out.  
“So you’re telling me it’s a crime to criminally fill out a crime sheet?” I asked with a smirk, I liked to have a bit of fun with them if they were up for it. “I’m a criminal!”  
She blinked at me, beyond unimpressed. Miserable cow. “Just answer the questions Mr. Gallagher.”  
“William John Paul Gallagher.” I said it so fast that she made me repeat it and spell it out.  
The form got filled in, boring. She was bored. I was bored.  
They took my shoes and my notorious green mod parka in case being in custody sent me so mad that I tried to hang myself with the laces, nothing else I was wearing was deemed suicide worthy.  
“Phone call, is there someone you want to call?” An officer asked and showed me the phone.  
I picked up the phone and dialed without answering him.  
“Come and pick me up you selfish little prick.” I demanded as soon as I heard someone was on the other end.  
“Liam, where are you, what’s going on?” It wasn’t Noel, it was his bird.  
I didn’t like her. It was none of her business. “He knows, you don’t need to. Tell him to get his arse down here. Now.”  
“He’s not here. I don’t know where he is. Tell me and I’ll be there.”  
How the fuck could he not be home by now?  
“Fucking find him then!” I slammed the phone back on the receiver.  
The officer warned me to “stop the aggressive behaviour” and stuck me in a cell. He told me I’d be questioned in a bit for the charges, criminal damage and drug possession (I was screwed if they got evidence on me) and then just walked off.  
I wasn’t even angry. I was hurt that Noel had just left me to take the rap and not for the first time. He was always a selfish twat.  
We were always doing shit like this, being famous made no fucking difference. I’m a born rock n roll star, course I dabbled in drugs but this night got a bit crazy, a bit too over the top.  
Smashed glasses, threw shit about, barstools and that. Argued with anyone who looked at me. Usually Noel’s a right mardy cunt about it but this time we were both having a right good time calling each other all the fucking names under the sun and pissing ourselves about it. Don’t know why, never stop to think about it. Was a proper laugh until they, the establishment called the cops. They shouldn’t give a shit with all we bought. The customer’s always right, I’m always right.  
I sat for ages and fucking ages, staring at the walls. There was nothing else I could do. I didn’t fancy pacing.  
Someone opened the door, the same one who put me in here I think.  
“Lucky, lucky lad.” he spoke patronisingly. “Your charges have been dropped. Come on.”  
“Is someone here to take me home?” I asked expectantly.  
He gave me a look. “Thought you said you were homeless.”  
“To my cardboard box.” I answered sarcastically.  
He gave me my shoes and parka back and took me to reception where Noel stood waiting, leant against the desk so casually. You’d think these places would make him jittery after all he’s done. Maybe the fear was hidden by his shades, he wore them just about permanently to block out the world not because of that crap about it being a rule in the rockstar handbook, bet he even sleeps in ‘em.  
“C’mon, car’s waiting.” He quickly walked me out.  
Once we were in the back of the car (the mandatory black SUV type with privacy tinted windows) being driven home I shoved Noel. “You left me.”  
“The charges were dropped.” He answered uncaringly.  
“You left me to get arrested.” I said again. “Not fucking cool, man.”  
He shrugged “You’re always banging on about liking being in cuffs.”  
“Not saying that, saying you shoulda been fucking there too.”  
“I’m not adding to my charge sheet cos you can’t run.”  
I punched his arm, half arsed, sort of playfully. “I can run, you just friggin run from everything.”  
I didn’t exactly mean it to be a dig but of course it was. Ran from Manchester. Ran from tours. Ran from me.  
“I don’t. Doesn’t matter. It. Was. Dropped.”  
“Why?” Ever since the officer said it I’d wondered, we’d clearly trashed the place, we’d clearly done drugs there, I was guilty as sin and should be going down for it.  
“Bonehead sweet talked the staff, promised to pay for the damages.” he answered. “Y’know why I had to leave you, you didn’t have nothing.”  
Was that meant to be him saying he’d have stayed if he didn’t have powder in his pocket? I don’t know. I doubt it.  
He looked out his window, watching the roads go by in the dark, showing he wasn’t going to talk anymore. Shutting me out.  
I stared out my window too and smiled smugly, knowing I was free to sleep in my own warm, comfy bed rather than on their stupid plastic mattress, knowing I’d gotten away with shit again just cos I was famous.


End file.
